Desperation
by MKaeru
Summary: After Soubi and Ritsuka discover that Seimei is still alive, there are some questions to answer... such as whether Seimei will still allow Soubi to be his Fighter.  Rated T to be safe.


Ok, this is my first fanfiction ever, so please don't be too hard on it! I worked on it very hard... hope you like it! (Please also review it if you have time!) Very dark, I guess. I'm not sure which of these characters is the most twisted at this point. :( Ritsuka doesn't do very well either.  
>DISCLAIMER: Loveless is absolutely not mine, and none of the characters are mine either.<br>(This story does pretend that Seimei doesn't have his own Fighter, so no Nisei.)

* * *

><p>His blood was soaking into the fabric of his trousers, making it that much harder to move.<p>

He could feel the broken part in his left leg, the bone in his thigh throbbing, shards of it stabbing into his muscle when he twitched.

But he was still sitting upright, even if his body would not stand. He was not allowed to let pain master him. His long hair was trailing across his eyes, catching in the hinges of his glasses and tickling his cheek, but he didn't raise a hand to brush it away. He was sitting in the place where the gray walls of the buildings met behind the school, in their shadowed corner on the grass where no one could see him. Occasionally cars zipped by, but the thicket of trees prevented him from being able to see them. It was sunny and cool, a perfect day by most people's standards. But the nervous fingers of his right hand were methodically ripping blades of grass from the brown dirt. That, not the blood pooling around him, was the only thing that betrayed his state of mind.

A bell rang in the school. His lashes fluttered briefly in surprise; he hadn't known it was already that late. A bare minute later a small figure wearing a much-too-big purple sweatshirt turned the corner of the building and skidded to a halt in front of him.

"Ritsuka," Soubi said graciously, with a slight smile.

Ritsuka had been crying, the man noticed, with flushed cheeks and angry eyes. There was a bandage over Ritsuka's left eye, and a little dried blood was visible just under it. But the boy knelt beside Soubi, heedless of the blood that would soak his jeans, and wrapped his arms around the tall man and yelled at him not to be so stupid, not to let himself get hurt just for Ritsuka's sake, and Soubi smiled and closed his eyes for a moment before he pushed the child away.

"Soubi? What is it?" Sweet confusion, so cute on Ritsuka's face. Or it could have been, but at this point Soubi simply didn't care.

"Ritsuka," he said again, with a little catch in his voice because his leg did hurt, quite a lot. "Ritsuka, you know I still am Seimei's."

"No," Ritsuka said. "You are mine. He gave you to me and you love me."

"Loving you..." Soubi sighed, not really paying attention.

"Soubi, what did happen to loving me?" Such weighted words to come from a boy's mouth.

Soubi brushed a strand of hair away from his glasses, evading the boy's gaze. He knew that Ritsuka had noticed the way Soubi had been drifting away from him, no longer constantly pledging his eternal love to the boy or obeying orders without question. And Ritsuka hadn't said anything, had pretended he had never noticed.

Until now.

Ritsuka cupped Soubi's face in his hands and looked deep into the man's eyes. "Soubi. Tell me what you mean to say."

"You do understand me, Ritsuka, that's why you're still asking, I suppose. Ritsuka, I am Seimei's, and I always will be." Soubi gently disentangled himself from Ritsuka's touch.

"But he gave you to me. You're mine," Ritsuka began, with childish petulance.

Soubi smiled again. "You know Seimei's commands are my only thoughts. You know this. Seimei is my god. If he says to love you when he is dead, then I am bound to love you, and that is all I wish to do. But he is no longer dead, never was, and I am free to say that I do not love you. And that I never did."

"What?" Ritsuka didn't seem to understand. His large eyes were clouded with the beginnings of tears. "No."

"You heard me," Soubi sighed. "Now go away. I have no room in my life for you anymore."

Ritsuka sat for a moment, thinking. Then he slapped Soubi, so hard for such small child, and in response Soubi touched Ritsuka's cheek tenderly. "If you want a kiss I can give you one. Seimei wouldn't want me to make you unhappy."

"No! Soubi, you idiot, i never want to see you again!"

And as Ritsuka ran away angrily, Soubi smiled again, watching the ridiculous purple sweatshirt disappear, and remembered all the times he'd awkwardly, clumsily declared his love for Ritsuka, trying to convince himself of it rather than the boy. It had been so hard to pretend, and he'd cried when he was back at his own house, alone, feeling that he had betrayed his only master. Such a small child was actually distasteful to him. He had never liked to be near children, even when he had been small himself. The other children had been strange to him, and he had only stared mutely at them on the rare occasion that they had tried to speak with him. He had only ever loved Seimei, loved Seimei with a passion and a devotion and a fear. And now Seimei was back, and Soubi was Seimei's, not Ritsuka's, and that felt good. Felt right.

But the fact remained that Soubi was injured and could not move from the corner that the outer walls of the school made, and that Seimei was not there to talk to him.

And then he felt the ribbon of Seimei nearing, and could almost smell the other man, remembered the feel of Seimei's fingers tangling in his hair, the tang of blood in his mouth from the many nights spent in Seimei's room when Soubi had failed that day's work. He leaned towards the delicate thread of life, thirsting for his Sacrifice's presence.

And then Seimei was there in front of him, arms crossed, powerful and perfect as ever with that slight cocky smile on his face.

Soubi bowed his head respectfully, but could not move farther because of his leg. Seimei snorted and swept across to the other.

"Careless, Soubi, careless," Seimei remarked. He crouched behind Soubi, careful to avoid getting blood on his spotless white sneakers, and examined the leg in question. Soubi instinctively turned his head to look at Seimei, but a sharp blow to his jaw quickly corrected him.

"Soubi, do not hold your face so close to mine. It is offensive." Seimei's voice, cool as ever.

"Yes, Seimei."

Soubi felt Seimei's fingers lightly probing the tender break in his leg, the slight pain from his Sacrifice's touch. His whole leg was tensed under the other man's fingers. Seimei slid his hand up the inside of Soubi's thigh unexpectedly and Soubi jumped slightly at the stab of pain before he caught himself. He had only moved very slightly, maybe he would be safe...

Seimei noticed. "Soubi. Don't go against your training now. Don't be an idiot."

"Yes, Seimei."

Suddenly Seimei's hand tightened around the break, and Soubi almost screamed before he caught himself to endure the punishment. Absolute anguish, exquisite and excruciating, tore itself across his body. It was hard to breathe now, and he could almost feel something inside him twist from just the pain. A sweat was beaded across his brow and he realized he had closed his eyes as tightly as he could, a reflex. One hand was clenched on his other leg, his fingernails digging into his skin even through his pants. Seimei would enjoy his torment.

Seimei smiled, sharp through the fog of Soubi's mind. "Soubi. You're useless now. You've served my brother, I don't see how you can ever be useful to me again."

"Seimei..." Soubi was gasping for breath, sparks fading across his vision. "No... Please... Let me stay with you."

"Was that an order?" Seimei asked bemusedly. Soubi realized what he'd said and felt his stomach drop dizzyingly.

"Ye- no, Seimei, not an order." He was stammering, an incompetent wreck. Why was he so nervous now, when he had endured worse without a tremor?

Seimei stood, smooth as a panther, and started to walk away. "Soubi, you are useless. I do not want someone who is not fully my own."

"Seimei!" Too dramatic. He winced at his own emotion. But Seimei couldn't leave him now. He would kill himself if that happened. But he knew, even as he thought it, that he would never have the willpower to kill himself without Seimei to guide him.

...perhaps he had not been overdramatic after all.

Seimei had turned around, astonished, and now Soubi dragged himself forward to clutch at the leg of Seimei's jeans, hating his helplessness even as he let himself lose control of his own body. "Seimei, please... I have never been loyal to anyone but you, I never loved him, it was only your orders-"

Searing white streaks shot through his vision as Seimei kicked him away, Seimei's foot connecting with Soubi's chin. The fall jarred his broken leg and he felt tears bordering his eyes so he bit his lip to fight back the snaking ribbons of the emotions and the pain. Seimei couldn't leave him, Soubi needed Seimei, desperately. He needed orders, needed direction, needed pain. But not this horrible emotional torment that tore his body apart, ceaselessly, but somehow left his body unharmed. Pain should only leave scars, to be forgotten or remembered, not emotions that can and will be felt again and again, uncontrollably.

Seimei's voice, gently chiding him, condescending. "Soubi, I told you. You are no longer mine."

Soubi scrambled, frenzied, toward Seimei, wrapped his arms around Seimei's knees, pressed his face against Seimei's legs, gulping for air, his words half-sobs in themselves, speaking anguished promises that had always been true. "Please, Seimei! I swear I will only be yours! Seimei, please, please don't leave me! You know I'm nothing without you..."

Seimei fisted his hand in Soubi's hair and Soubi froze. Seimei never did like being touched and Soubi had done just that, when Seimei was already annoyed, no less. But Seimei merely tossed Soubi away and Soubi fell backwards, landing awkwardly to shield his leg. He felt his heart rip a little instead.

Borderline anger showed in the verges of Seimei's voice, a slight sharpening of the tone. "Soubi, shut up. I have stated that if you cannot be loyal to me I have no use for you."

And he walked away. Soubi lay back on his elbows, panting from pain and desperation. He was crying, he realized, tears streaming down his cheeks and staining his rumpled shirt. Seimei didn't want him any more... He was worthless now. He should really just dispose of himself quietly. Seimei didn't even care enough to order him to do that. Seimei, his life, his god, his Sacrifice, his... his everything. He had to try one more time, just once. Just to say... something... his throat was so tight he couldn't seem to string together enough sounds to make a word...

"M- Master, please!" He heard himself, his voice so jarring against the still air, and winced again and shut his mouth as if he'd never spoken, because he was sure to be punished for speaking out of turn, especially with such emotion.

Seimei halted, picture-perfect as always, just about to turn the corner, one hand trailing over the stones in the wall. He didn't move for a second, but the tip of his tail swished through the air angrily... Anger at first sight, but that emotion was something else entirely... Something darker, something like pleasure.

Soubi lay there, afraid to breathe.

"What did you say?" Seimei asked calmly, after a long pause.

"Seimei-"

"You called me something... unusual, no? Of course you did." Seimei reclined comfortably beside Soubi, leaning on one elbow, and brushed two fingers over Soubi's cheekbone, catching a tear. "And crying, too. How quaint."

Soubi didn't speak. He could still feel the gentle touch of his master, almost loving on his face. He almost closed his eyes. But he caught himself when he noticed Seimei's eyes, half-lidded and gazing thoughtfully into his own. He hadn't been away so long that he'd forgotten what that expression meant. it was a dangerous expression, the one Seimei wore when he was feeling creative and Soubi had misbehaved.

"Call me that again, Soubi. I want to hear you say that again."

Soubi almost couldn't summon words... Seimei was so close to him. His words were still tangled clumsily in the sticky place in his throat. "Yes... Yes, master."

Seimei let out a long breath, satisfied. "Oh yes, Soubi. You're still mine." A low chuckle. "And I will make your miserable life, such as it is, hell."

"Th- thank you, master." Soubi wasn't sure what he was thanking the other man for. "Thank you."

And, stupidly, he was crying again, and he covered his eyes with both hands to hide his tearstained face from Seimei, who looked beautiful and perfect, like a photograph from a magazine. He didn't want to have to feel his far-too-clumsy body any longer. But Seimei dragged his head back and looked into Soubi's face with that same cocky smile. Soubi managed to stop the tears with an effort. Seimei smiled lazily and leaned down a mere inch to whisper in Soubi's ear, tangling his fingers carelessly in Soubi's hair.

"Clean yourself up, fix that leg," Seimei murmured against Soubi's neck, murmured the way one would speak to a favorite domesticated dog. "And then meet me back at my house. I bought a new knife that I think we might enjoy."

And then Seimei was gone again.

"Master," Soubi whispered huskily, because that was all he could think. "Master."

And he crumpled slowly to the ground and lay on his side, shoulders shaking with silent sobs, his broken leg twisted sideways, awkwardly, while the memory of the scent of his master's body mingled with the constant throbbing of his thigh. He had gotten what he wanted, he safely remained Seimei's, and he was crying, sobbing, tormented with the idea that nothing had changed. Perhaps it was relief, or perhaps the restless anxiety of the weight of the things that hadn't changed. He couldn't stop crying. It was torture. He had controlled his emotions so perfectly for so long that it was only painful to let them go.

Seimei leaned around the corner and watched his Fighter with vague amusement. He regretted not stepping on that leg when he had had the chance. Unfortunately going back now would just be petty. Soubi... Now the man was as broken as a dog hit by a car. Soubi, his servant... his slave. So much fun to play games with, because Soubi took everything so seriously. Through that whole game, not once had it crossed Soubi's mind that Seimei would never be so stupid as to give orders that deliberately undermined the usefulness of a very valuable tool.

"How pathetic," Seimei said to no one in particular, and strode away.


End file.
